That was Then
by GondorCalling
Summary: This is now. ((Off hiatus))
1. Chapter 1

This is a new story! I hope you enjoy, there will be more info in te next chapter.

* * *

Canada stood up in the middle of the meeting. "I'm leaving." He announced suddenly...

He sighed. Obviously that wouldn't get their attention. When had it ever? Wearily the invisible Canadian shuffled out of the loud room, leaving behind the usual chaos and empty threats of war. When the large doors slammed shut Canada relaxed his tense muscles and leaned back against the large wooden panels. He felt hot and cold at the same time and his legs trembled. He had thought that leaving the room would allow him to get some air but now, as he loosened his tie which had started feeling more like a noose, he realized that he had been so, so, wrong. Maybe he was coming down with something?  
'I mean, countries don't just imagine Prussia ignoring one of his best friends and actually _walking through them_ like a ghost... Right?' No. Something was wrong. It was like something in the universe had shifted, something big was happening. Canada closed his eyes and sank down to the floor. He leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes.  
He welcomed the darkness.

It didn't seem like any time had passed but when he woke there was a cool hand on his forehead. He heard an eastern European accent muttering and was confused. " 'Murica...? Why're you sounding like..." He trailed off as his eyes opened and frowned. This wasn't his brother. Or his home. Unless America had gotten a sex change and not told him. And his house was redecorated to look like a hall way.

"Dammit, you're delirious. I should have known you were weak... Not like big brother." T

he last part was said with such admiration that it was familiar. Canada blinked a few times and his vision cleared. Was that...? No... It couldn't be... Belarus wouldn't do something so kind.

"Believe it or not I am actually selfless at times." She snapped, a strange red flush adorning her cheeks. Canada was startled, he didn't remember saying that out loud. Over come with what was most likely a fever induced temptation he reached out a shaking hand and grabbed a few strands of her long ash blonde hair.

"Thank you." He breathed lightly. "Your hair looks like the snow." He whispered. "I love the snow..."

A small smile spread across his face and he closed his eyes again. He didn't have time to fall asleep because he felt his rescuer shaking him awake. "Do not close your eyes Matvey. You were almost stepped on last time you fell asleep. Who can i call to take you home?" Canada cracked open one eye and squinted blearily at Belarus. "Maybe Alfred... Or... Papa..." He started to close his eyes again and unconsciously mumbled, "Maybe you..."

A sharp intake of breath jolted him awake. Something dangerous glinted in the girl's eyes. Canada had a vague feeling that if the head ache stopped pounding behind his own eyes then he would have run away a long time ago. "Listen here," the belarusian woman began, "I just saved your sorry ass because big brother happens to like you. Do not take me for a fool and expect me to look after you like this! I don't even know you and if i hadn't tripped over you on my way into the meeting then you would still be out there in the way." She gave him one last glare and looked away with a huff. "Who is your...Papa?" She asked quietly.

"F-France..."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Somehow you don't strike me as a lady killer. Are you sure? Is this the fever talking?"

Was she... Making a joke? Belarus stood up and began to walk to the doors, most likely to find papa but Canada needed to tell her something. He reached out his hand to grab the skirt of her dress. The young man's hand made a grasp for the fabric but sank right through like nothing had even been there... Except... It had. There was something he wanted to tell her. Something important. why couldn't he remember it? Also, why did his eyelids feel like they weighed a ton? Slowly, but surely Canada slipped back into the bliss of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

/Blushes in shame/ Why do I update this faster than Broken Mirrors? Oh well... In this fic you will see a pairing that isn't all that well known but I will be sure to make it adorable and at least a little more out there.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia. That makes me sad. But this sory will probably also make you sad. watch out.

* * *

"Tu devries être heureux Bélarus m'a dit que vous étiez malade." France scolded Canada. He took a moment to look away from where he was driving to give his son a stern look but his features relaxed when he saw the young man's head leaning against the window and the deep clutches of sleep holding him once more. France turned back to the road but couldn't shake the pang of worry in his chest when he thought about the pink flush that tinted Canada's face and the shivers that racked his body.

It was strange how sudden the illness had come on. France's brow creased as he thought about the meeting and realised that it probably wasn't all that strange after all; he couldn't remember even seeing his son at the meeting. Had he not even made it that far? France made the decision to ask Canada when he heard his boy waking up. "Where're we?" He heard a sleepy voice ask quietly. France felt his heart flutter; mon dieu, this boy was adorable. If he could rid himself of the invisibility cloak that was seemingly always draped across his shoulders then he would be a definite hit with the ladies.

"Nous sommes à la maison."

"Ah…Papa? Pouvez-vous s'il vous plait parler en Anglais?"

That's right…France felt his heart sink a little; England's influence in the country was larger than his, though he would probably have to say that Quebec was prettier than a lot of places here…though…he was probably biased.

"All right." He said with a sad smile. Suddenly he changed the topic, the mood was a little too drab for him, "It is good that the meeting was held in Ottawa, non?"

"Hm…? Why's that?" Canada said, looking at him with glassy, feverish eyes. That was not a good sign.

"Ah, no reason mon petit. Let us get you inside."

* * *

It didn't prove too difficult to direct the man inside his neat flat. Most countries boasted large estates to match their land but Canada, despite the size and renowned scenery, decided to hole inside a quaint apartment that was spacious to say the least but…well…it lacked grandeur. France shook his head; he would need to teach his son a few lessons in appearance. It was slightly nostalgic having to put Canada to bed and soon France found himself sitting in the dark bedroom watching the man's sleeping figure. "I was surprised that Belarus actually noticed you and came to get me." He said, putting some words into the empty air.

"Sh' said s'mth'n 'bout bein' friens wi' Russia." Came a muffled response. France jumped a little but then replied, "Mon petit! I thought you were asleep."

Canada cracked open an eye and stared at France. "I was thinking too much to sleep." He told the other blonde, sitting up.

"Sur quoi?"

"About…never mind. You're right. Belarus never struck me as quite the caring type."

"Oui." France sighed, "She is quite the looker though, non? Her hair is very pretty."

It was hard to tell in the dim lighting but was Canada actually…blushing? Suddenly a concerned look crossed the young man's face, "France…?"

"Oui?"

"Do I look…different to you?"

France chuckled a little, "Well you have seen better days, mon ange."

"No, I mean…Is it getting harder to…you know?"

Ah, there it was. The elephant in the room was finally gone, so why did it suddenly feel stuffier?

"N-non Matthew, it isn't…I didn't think… Is…is it?"

He had known that Canada had always been very self-conscious about the fact that he was perpetually ignored.

"Today- at the meeting- I was there."

Merde. _Had_ he been there?

"I was feeling horrible and all the fighting was getting to me so I announced my departure so I wouldn't seem rude…but…no one noticed…"

"I'm sure someone-"

"Then it was even stranger papa! Something worse happened."

What could possibly be worse? France felt fear well up in his gut. It hurt just looking at Canada's watery violet eyes.

"I thought it was something to do with my fever but earlier I was speaking to Prussia and he couldn't see me at all and I felt strange for a moment. It was like all the sound was gone from the room and I couldn't breathe and I was so scared papa and I-"

Canada was breathing heavily now, his fists were white knuckling the bed sheets and his entire being was quaking in fear. He spoke rapidly and France could barely understand him.

"Calm down Matthew, you need to breathe!"

France moved closer to his son and held his shaking body close. The next thing that Canada managed to choke out between sobs chilled him right to his core.

"_And then he walked right through me._"

France sat on the bed holding Canada until his sobs subsided and before his body went limp into the peaceful throws of sleep he whispered, "And then it happened again; with Her."

France gently laid him down into a comfortable position. He picked up his phone, pressed 1 on speed dial and went to grasp Canada's hand for comfort, but he found nothing there. He looked down to see that there were certainly two hands but every time he attempted to hold it it would prove as useful as trying to hold air. A groggy British accent filled his ear and said, "Bloody Hell, you frog, what do you want at this time of the morning…?"

There was a stretch of silence.

"I…" France said, suddenly confused, "…I can not remember."

* * *

I like clff hangers (If you can't tell from readin broken mirrors my other fic) and I also like hurt!Canada for reasons only because I'm a sadistic bastard who wants to watch the world burn and throw feels at people.

My french skills are rusty from not being in use since grade 9 but I tried

_Tu devries être heureux Bélarus m'a dit que vous étiez malade.= _**You should be happy Belarus told me you were sick**

_"Nous sommes à la maison." = _**We are at your house**

_Ah…Papa? Pouvez-vous s'il vous plait parler en Anglais? = _**Ah...Dad? Could you please speak in English?**

_mon petit=_ It's usually an affectionate term meaning **My little one**

_non=_ **no**

oui=** yes**

_sur quoi?_**=About what?**

merde**= shit**


	3. Chapter 3

I felt like it was about time for an update on this one here! It's kind of short but i wanted to leave you guys with a really dramatic ending and the one i had planned out for this chapter would have been ruined if i didn't continue. Also, i would appreciate some more feed back and suggestions if any of you guys have some! It would be great if you let Mr know how you want this to continue, i mean i already have a pretty good idea of the plot but having some advice from the followers might be a nice change. In other news i am still slaving away at broken mirrors, don't worry i still have a few chapters to go! You didn't think I'd let Mattie of that easy did you?

Disclaimer: i don't own hetalia. Sadly. if these guys and gals were real I'd be hugging Canada forever and never letting go. He's too precious for this world.

On with the story,

ALLONS-Y!

* * *

Belarus stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the apartment.

Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? He was probably fine... Fine her ass. She had seen his face when that annoying Prussian walked through him. The incoherent mumbles about snow and the gentle way he touched her hair... No, stop. She shook her head. Don't think about that idiot.

She felt irritation pull at her insides. Belarus was losing sleep over this weak nobody. But it wasn't like she had anything else to do; Russia had taken extra measures to make sure she couldn't find him this time.

Why couldn't he just accept their love already?

Belarus jumped a little when she saw the door to the stairway open and France walk out. She approached him silently, the skirt of her dress blowing in the cold, autumn, wind.

"How is he?" She asked quietly.  
France let out a muffled sort of shriek. He whipped his head around to stare at Belarus with fearful eyes.

" Oh... It-it is just you Natalya..." He said with obvious relief.

Belarus narrowed her eyes, there was also a hint of confusion in the man's voice.

"What is wrong? Is he doing well?"

"Qui?"

"Your son."

A puzzled expression came over the Frenchman's face. He stared at Belarus like she was the sick one.

"My son? Ma cherie, Alfred is fine... Isn't he?"

Belarus let out a garbled noise of frustration. Was that a tinge of fear in her chest too? But why? It's not like she was that worried about that weak, sick, blonde, Frenchie, american-ish bastard... right?

"Your son, Canada. Matthew. He was ill and you brought him home. Home as in here."

Belarus made a point as to gesture towards the flat France had exited only moments before. She had a nagging feeling about where this was going... But there was no way in hell she was concerned. The only reason Belarus was here was out of common courtesy. And she was bored. She didn't even know the boy. Nope, not-  
"I was not in that apartment, Natalya."  
- _shit_. She was worried.  
Belarus stormed past France and hurried to the door to the flat. And vaguely heard France call out for her but of course; she ignored him.

Not worried, _not_ worried,_ not worried_, no way in hell was she worked up over this in any way.

Belarus ran up the steps skipping one with each stride. Upon making it to the top she quickly located Canada's room.

A flood of relief came over her when she saw the boy's sleeping figure.

It drained out of her when he began to scream.

- -  
It barely registered in Canada's mind when France left. He was only aware of the emptiness that had washed over his existence.

He felt nothing.

He saw nothing.

It was almost like...

...

He _was_ nothing.

Thoughts churned sluggishly through Matthew's vague consciousness and a bone chilling cold settled in his veins. He felt himself slowly coming back to the reality which he hadn't realized he'd ever left and soon became aware of what sounded like the remnants of a fight outside his home.

Why was he home?

Matthew's brow furrowed as he stared at the Ottawa Senators poster on his ceiling, trying to piece back his life before waking up... Which was proving to be difficult.

Within minutes Canada found himself back in the throes of sleep.

In his dream he stood in the meeting room and countries milled around him, chatting noisily and in the distance China's loud voice could be heard trying to sell various "miracle cure alls" to nations he deemed naïve.

Germany called for everyone to settle down and commence the conference. He began with the attendance and called out each nation's name.

Canada sat patiently in his seat between Russia and America. His hands were clasped on his lap and fiddling idly. He felt a nervous tension in the pit of his gut. It took him a moment to understand why.

His name hadn't been called. He spoke up, or at least, he tried to. No sound came out of his throat. Canada felt his heart pounding and adrenaline pulsing through his body. His heart beat sounded in his ears like drum beats.

Why was he even here?

_He couldn't remember._

_Boom._

How did he get from his home to the meeting?

_He couldn't remember._

_Boom._

Had he even _gone_ home?

_He couldn't remember._

_Boom._

What was wrong with him that would make him have the illusion of going home? Was he ill?

_He couldn't remember._

_Boom._

Who _was_ he even?

**_He couldn't remember._**

_Boom._

_Boom._

_Boom._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

**_Screaming._**

* * *

if anyone didn't get that one word of French in there (qui) it means who.

Also, what is going on? Everyone has been forgetting Canada and now it seems that the one who never paid him any attention is the only one who remembers? And why does it seem that amongst all the forgetfulness even CANADA HIMSELF has forgotten himself?

The answers shall be revealed soon...


	4. hiatus notice

This is on hiatus for now as I am sorting out a lot of stuff in my life and trying to think of what next. I'm still working on the story but I might not post anything for a while. So sorry for this but I need some time to think.


	5. Chapter 5

Guess who's back in the game?! That's right, I am. Here's a short chapter because I just stopped where I felt was right. Big thanks to North13 for that little conversation we had! It got me even more determined to break free from writer's block. Reminder that I am a beta reader and you guys can talk to me anytime about anything! I'd love to get to know my readers more!

* * *

America awoke with a start. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. It was hard to explain but to put it into the simplest terms; it felt as though half of him were missing. This was a half that not many other nations knew about. This half was his brother.

America and his little brother had always had this strange connection; it was probably due to the fact that before being found by the rest of the world, the two had been representing one land. There was no Canada or America.

Now it was early. About 3 am to be precise. America ignored the sweat that dripped from his face. He felt only the intense, irregular beating of his heart and his own hand gripping his chest.

"Matt."

The word dragged itself out of his mouth like a wounded soldier trying to pull himself to safety. He felt as though a piece of his existence was slowly fading. It wasn't peaceful at all though, it was as though he were being pulled apart piece by agonizing piece and then...

It stopped.

America lay there for what felt like hours just trying to catch his breath. When he had regained enough strength there was a mad scramble for his phone.

He chewed his lip frantically while listening to the ringing. "C'mon Mattie..." He whined anxiously. Finally his brother picked up the phone and there was a stretch of silence. America sat on the floor in a pair of boxers with a dry mouth. What was he supposed to say? "Hey bro I just felt like you were killed, what's up?"

When the silence was broken the voice that spoke from the other end of the phone wasn't his brother's. It was female for starters, and the accent sounded eastern European.

"...Belarus?" America asked cautiously, "where's my brother?"

"Canada cannot come to the phone right now."

Fear sparked in America's heart. He knew about Belarus's violent tendencies (hell, didn't everyone?) And the possibilities of what could have happened to his baby brother were terrifying.

"Put him on goddammit." He growled. His anger was fueled only by fear and exhaustion.

"Like I said before," the Belarusian woman replied coolly, "Canada is a little occupied at the moment."

America wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream in her face and demand justice. He really, really wanted to burst into Matthew's house guns-a-blazing.

"I'm coming over." America jumped to his feet and hurriedly pulled on a pair if trousers and an old tee shirt.  
Belarus protested loudly into his ear but America ignored the voice from the other end of the phone.

His keys jangled loudly as his hands shook. The adrenaline pumping through his system was almost too much. It may be nothing, said the doubts

"America, this is not what you think!"

Maybe she was right.

There was the possibility that she was also lying.  
"Matthew is..."  
"Shut the fuck up. Just- stop. You have no right to be there. He has no use for you. I'm the one who watches out for Mattie, you're supposed to be chasing that commie bastard. This isn't- it's too weird."

Belarus was silent for a moment before speaking with a voice that made America shiver.  
"I do not care if you think this is strange. I am just as confused as you right now though. If I were you I would be grateful, if it weren't for me your brother wouldn't be here. Did you even know he was sick today?"

"W-what?"

"I did not think so... But America..." Her voice softened, "I need your help now."

America stiffened. He had never heard of Belarus asking for help (besides Russia's that is).

"What did you do- I mean... What's wrong?"

The silence was killing him. America was never one to wait for surprises. To this day England would still complain about the bothersome trait.

"I think he's forgotten."

"What? What's he forgotten?!"

America was scared that he knew the answer. Just from the way the way his own body had reacted earlier he knew, deep down.

"Everything."


End file.
